


Nowhere to Go

by Tchosan



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: DARE Series, F/M, Holiday Special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tchosan/pseuds/Tchosan
Summary: Murdoc's first holiday out of the slammer. All dressed up and, well...--DARE holiday special.
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Nowhere to Go

**Author's Note:**

> I used to do a DARE holiday fic every year. Felt like a good time to bring that back.

Angel played with the plastic lid of her cup, phasing in and out of what Lenore was saying.

They'd met at a little coffee shop as Lenore banged-out some end of the year business on her laptop, and Angel tagged along.

She was staring out at the snow falling, watching it collect over everything. Snow globe snow, the kind that stacked up big and fluffy and lingered for days.

"Angela?"

"Yes?" she said with a start, her eyes snapping back to Lenore.

"The 23rd?"

"Uh… what about it?"

"You're as absent as him sometimes, I swear to God. The company party. Don't get excited, it's not as fun as it sounds."

"Mandatory?" she said with a snort. "I'd go, but I don't know how I'd convince Murdoc."

Lenore scoffed.

"Christ, no. You couldn't pay Muds to come."

"I'm sure this isn't his favorite time of year," she scoffed.

She was sure the Satanist with a burning hatred for goodwill towards men wasn't a huge fan of the holiday season.

"No, he fucking loves Christmas. He'd throw a huge rager at Kong every year and dress up as Satan, horns and all, and spend all night trying to get people "on the naughty list" to sit on his lap. One year he managed to get ahold of seven swans, six geese, four parakeets, three chickens, two pigeons, and one very angry peacock and let them all loose in the place. The mess was unbelievable. Then you wouldn't see him till New Year. He'd emerge from his cocoon like a butterfly, if that butterfly smelled like a gallon of old beer and a dozen upended ash trays, all ready to party again."

Lenore looked back down at her phone, thumbs tapping against the screen fast.

"Not anymore, I guess. Kong's gone and so is everyone else. The company party is too tame for him. Too many actually important people to piss off, there."

Angel stared at her. That was… surprising. She rested her chin on her arms. She expected him to be Scrooge when he was really the jolly old Ghost of Christmas Present.

So he'd be alone, without the rest of them. If there was one thing she understood, it was being alone on any given holiday—Halloween, Christmas, New Year… She was always the hanger-oner, always hoping someone would have a party she could tag along to. She never had a place of her own big enough to bring anyone over, and there was no home to go back to. Always the third-wheel, never the host. And now the ringleader Murdoc was relegated to wallflower hanger-oner. Quite a comedown.

Lenore looked up at the staring contest Angel was having with her cup.

"I know what you're thinking." She leaned forward. "I'm in."

"What? I thought you didn't like to encourage his, uh… behavior."

"You don't work with Muds for ten years without a little sense of humor. Besides, I can't stand his fucking moping. It's irritating."

Not one worthwhile party. Not one.

The holidays without Kong fucking sucked.

The last three he spent staring through iron bars and suffering Christmas carols belted out by the cellmates on either side of him. And before that… well, the island wasn't exactly party-central. He spent the night emptying a bottle of rum and watching 2D glare at him over a game of chess that was missing half the pieces, before he eventually upended the whole thing, scattering pawns and bottle caps onto the floor and passed out in his room, alone.

But this year, he was gloriously, frighteningly free. And had nothing to do and nowhere to go.

No Kong. No band. And not enough gas in the tank to even try and throw something together that would even be worth the time. What was the point? Without Russ trying to wrangle him and 2D making an ass of himself and Noodle dancing till she was the last one left, what was there to do, anyway, that he didn't do the whole rest of the year?

Apathy ate at him. He'd just let it pass, this year. Maybe New Year too, just hole himself up and wait for it all to be over.

But he knew at least one other person who wouldn't have jack-shit to do. Who the hell else did Angel know to drag her ass to a party? Maybe they could get blackout drunk together. At least it would be something to pass the time.

Angel stopped by like clockwork, bringing coffee with her like she always did. He could set his schedule by her. An excuse, he guessed, just so she could come by.

But he didn't mind it today.

She banged her boots together in the doorway and slipped them off, making her way into the kitchen, where Murdoc was already sitting, laying in wait like a spider for his fly to wander in.

He flashed her a wide grin from across the counter as she set his cup down in front of him.

"So, you have your flat all dressed for old Saint Nick to sllllide down your chimney and stuff your stocking?"

Angel glanced up, blowing over the edge of her cup.

"Actually, I was going to go to Fran's."

Murdoc fought to keep his face from falling, forcing his grin wider.

"Ahh, I see, going as her date to piss the parents off, huh?"

"Yeah, you got it," she laughed.

His eyes darted from her to the floor, back up to her.

So much for his failsafe. He really was the only one with nothing to do, and no one to do nothing with. Even the ruddy orphan found somewhere to be.

"Well, that's a relief, in fact. I've… been planning a little holiday getaway for myself… Havana, actually. Why suffer the greyness of merry old England when I could spend my days drowning in rum and watching hot babes and cut guys running up and down the beach from the poolside? Loads better than his freezing mudhole," he snorted. "Going to fly out on Monday."

Angel went stiff as a board, trying her best to seem unaffected.

"That sounds fun. I hope you have a good time."

"I will."

"Good."

"It is good."

"Great."

"Fine."

He brushed past her, gritting his teeth till his jaw went sore.

"Now, pardon me, but I've got some business to attend to. You know the way out, I assume?"

Angel watched him go, listening to his footsteps go up the stairs as she nervously cracked her knuckles. Looked like she had to bump the schedule up a bit.

Angel was avoiding him. He knew that for a fact.

No phone calls, no unannounced drop-ins, not even a text. She was even missing from the studio the few times he came by. She'd just disappeared.

Whatever, he finally thought, getting his shit together for the next day. And by shit, that meant his travelling bar set, a pack of condoms, one change of clothes, and his cheetah-print speedo.

He'd make his own goddamn fun. He didn't need anybody else—just a cold drink and the hot sand. Well, several cold drinks.

He'd buy a ticket anywhere warm, any place at all, and he'd book it hot out of the country tomorrow.

Neither hide nor hair of her for three days, and of course, she showed up on his way out. Angel was halfway up the walk as he was locking the door behind him, trudging up in her little heels through the snow.

_Look who fuckin' crawled out of the woodwork._

He bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile that made Angel shrink.

"Ange', what a surprise. It's been a while. Thought maybe you were on a little sabbatical."

"Sorry, I was busy."

He snorted, looking her up and down. She was wrapped up tight in a long trenchcoat that reached down to her bare shins.

"You gonna go flash some people in the mall carpark, dressed like that? I'd come along to watch, but you've caught me at a bad time."

She glanced down at the suitcase he had clutched in his hand.

"You're… you're leaving now? I thought you were leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah, well, got a better deal. They're bumping me to uber-first-class. That's showbiz, baby. But I'm running a bit late, Ange', so if you don't mind…"

He moved around her and Angel rushed along behind.

"Wh-bu-but, uh… why don't I drive you to the airport? Then I can bring your car back."

He scoffed, spinning his keyring around on the end of his finger.

"Yeah, like I'd trust you to bring it straight back. Honestly, you'd probably sell it to that mad friend of yours and buy yourself a Harley. Love to see you in the fringed leather chaps, though."

Angel panicked. She had to stop him from leaving, and in a snap decision, her brain decided that the best way to do that was to snatch the keys straight out of his hand.

Murdoc stopped, staring up at her, a surprised little chuckle leaving him.

"That's cute and all, _Angela_ , but hand them over."

"No," she said, her face flushing.

Murdoc's humor was slipping away.

"Give them back."

She lifted the keys high up over her head, and even jumping didn't help him snatch them out of her grip. He grit his teeth.

"Don't think I won't climb up there," he growled, grabbing the lapels of her coat.

"Ah—no!"

She gripped the keys in her fist and lobbed them as hard as she could, watching them sail over a neighbor's wall.

He rounded on her, mouth hanging open in silent fury.

"What the fuck?!'

"You can't go!" she blurted out.

"And why the fuck not?"

"Because—!"

She struggled, wriggling and trying to come up with something, anything, that wasn't the truth. But lying to a liar wasn't her strong suit. She let out a long sigh.

"I… have a surprise for you."

He blinked, his face going blank.

"You've got a what now?"

"I have a surprise for you, but we have to drive to it. Please don't go yet."

Murdoc eyed her skeptically.

"What kind of surprise?"

"That's a secret."

"Can't expect me to take you on word alone, love."

She rolled her eyes and unbuttoned her long coat, pulling it open to reveal her dress underneath—a short thing, cut high at the leg and low at the chest, all covered in spangly, metallic silver fringe. Lenore's treat.

"Does this convince you that I'm serious?"

Murdoc had to collect his jaw off the ground.

" _Hooooly_ shit. You should've shown me that from the jump."

She shivered in the cold, goosebumps prickling the skin the icy wind cut against.

"Will you come willingly, now?"

He slipped his arms under her coat, gripping tight around her waist to pull her against him. He was warm.

"Oh, I'll come _verrrrry_ willingly, love."

She tried to wrangle her little grin as she made a weak effort to pull away.

"Then I'm driving."

Her face fell and they looked over at the wall.

"I'm not going over that in this, Muds."

"I let you drive the thing once and you think it's yours."

He rubbed his knee, looking over at Angel in the driver's seat.

"So, you gonna tell me where the fuck we're going with you looking like a slutty disco ball?"

"No," she said simply.

He thinned his lips into a tight line, leaning his chin in his hand against the door, his eyes running along the gap of her coat where he could see the hem of her dress catching the glow of the streetlights. She'd made him go back inside and change after he'd mucked up his clothes hunting around for his keys, which had conveniently landed in a rose bush that raked his arms and snagged his sleeves. He tugged at the collar of his black turtleneck, too tight from too many washes.

He dragged his nails along the edge of her dress, running over her thigh.

"Why don't we pull over, love? Can't expect me to see you like that and not want to slip that little thing off you."

"Flattery isn't going to keep me from driving us there."

She didn't want him to take his hand away, but there wasn't any time for that. She clutched the wheel and shot him a little look from the corner of her eye.

"Maybe later," she said in a small voice.

"Oooh, don't make promises you can't keep, Ange'," he purred, leaning into her.

"Down, boy," she snorted.

His face crumpled up in a confused twist as they pulled up outside a large house he didn't recognize.

"You bought this place for me? How thoughtful."

"Cram it, smartass," she scoffed, shutting off the engine.

He eyed the lines of cars all parked along the sidewalk. Busy place.

"You and me party crashing? Honestly, didn't think you had it in you, but I'm proud I've been such a bad influence," he said as he came around the side of the car next to her.

He jumped when she grabbed his hand, and nearly pulled it right back out of her grip on instinct. He gave her a nervous little laugh.

"Ah, good angle, Ange'. The old couple-from-the-office schtick. Make it convincing, right? Let me do the talking, and you stuff as much free food in your pockets as you can—shrimp in one, cocktail sauce in the other."

She wasn't saying anything while she nearly dragged him up the walk, which made him even more nervous.

The door was getting closer and the way Angel was determined to get him inside, holding his hand so tight, made him want to run the other way.

He didn't even get the chance to turn around before the door flew open by itself.

"Muds!"

All the air got squeezed out of him as Fran leapt on him in the doorway, wrapping her arms around him tight. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Jesus!" he struggled, his heart banging hard in his chest. "God, can't I have one person call me the name I was born with?"

"Well Merry-fucking-Christmas to you too, you bloody goblin," she chided, roughly tousling his hair that he immediately tried to smooth back down. "This is the thanks I get for making the trip up here? You should be ashamed. Guess you'll have to let me drive that hot ride of yours to make up for it."

"You couldn't have waited one second?" Angel muttered, stepping aside for Murdoc to have a chance at making it through the door.

He nudged past the girls and peered in.

It _was_ a Christmas party, but he wouldn't have to smooth-talk their way in, because he recognized everyone there.

Lenore knew who Murdoc hated, and who he tolerated, and the few he even liked. And to her surprise, a good many of them took her invitation over the company's. She imagined the execs were sitting alone and eating spinach puffs in silence with the number of people who turned out. She had the feeling it might have had something to do with the interest in Angel, a new prospect, as much as an opportunity to see Murdoc create whatever debauchery he'd get up to.

Decked would have been an apt description of the place after Lenore, Fran, and Angel had their way with it.

Mistletoe was tied up with red felt ribbons in every doorway and the windows were all blinking with crimson lights. A sizable Christmas tree that Fran and Angel dragged in was trimmed by the wall, topped with an upside-down cross and dotted with skull ornaments and red glass balls.

But the prize feature was the bar, loaded end-to-end with liquor, beer, and an extremely precarious tower of filled champagne glasses that Angel painstakingly built, fully knowing Murdoc would knock it over, most likely on purpose.

And the music—there wasn't one note of Christmas-y tunes to be heard. It was all rock and metal, heavily peppered with Gorillaz tracks, all hand-picked by Angel herself.

He glanced around from face to face, his eyes travelling upwards to the ceiling, where long streamers of silver and red ribbon hung.

On the second floor balcony stood Lenore in a tight little red dress, giving him a knowing little smile and nod.

"You… _you_ did this?"

"Well, me and Fran, and Lenore got most of it together. She's better at organizing this kind of thing than I am. Bigger budget, too. She rented this place, some rich guy's BnB. If it was just my dime, it would have been a pony keg and an Ipod Shuffle with the four of us playing Boggle in my apartment."

She couldn't read the expression on his face—mouth hanging open, eyebrows raised, in-between horror and delight without leaning one way or the other.

"I… um…" she mumbled, growing more nervous the longer he stayed silent, starting to think she'd made a horrible mistake. "Lenore said you used to throw these big parties, and I… just… If you don't like it, you might still be able to get another flight, I can drive you to the airport. Or—"

"Ange'?"

She tensed.

"Y-yeah?"

"Was that dress expensive?"

"Oh, uh… Lenore got it, I don't know. Why?"

His lips curled over his sharp teeth and when he turned to look at her, she could see the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Because I'm gonna rip it off you later."

Relief trembled through her.

He glanced around, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Not _tooooo_ bad of a job. The inverted cross ornaments are a nice touch. Lots of mistletoe, nice, nice. Bit too cheery, bit too clean, but the night's still young, lots of time to fix that. I'd give it… a six out of ten."

"Wow, how generous," she snorted.

"It's missing the life-size ice sculpture of me, a chocolate fountain, and a live harp player in a bikini, but it'll do."

Fran tugged on her dress, leaning in.

"That Lenore girl, is she single, do you know?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Fran, no. I'm begging you."

Angel turned back, seeing Murdoc's longing gaze at the sprawling bar. She smiled and nodded at him, and he shot her a wide grin before diving in, leaving her to talk Fran out of hitting on his agent.

He certainly did make a spectacle of himself.

Lenore had apparently rooted out a Santa costume, which Murdoc slapped on with the coat half open and the hat crooked on his head as he made his rounds, asking if everyone had been good that year with a leery smirk.

The three of them had put together a stocking and made an attempt to write his name on it—which was scrawled and lopsided—and filled it up with travel-sized bottles of liquor, which he instantly busted into, and quickly started his slippery slope to getting hammered.

He eyed the champagne tower, and Angel gave him a little wink, and he pulled out a glass from the very bottom with a toothy smirk, drank the whole thing, then flicked a glass in the middle, sending the whole thing tottering over and smashing into the ground in a firework of glass and wine. Angel already had a broom out.

He hung off shoulders and told loud stories and carried on like he hadn't talked to anyone in years. To be truthful, he really hadn't.

She gave him wide berth to play, watching him until he stopped for a breather at the end of the bar, where she slid up next to him.

"Having fun?" she snorted.

"Oh, Ange', I'll give it to you, you do know how to throw a decent get-together. Too bad you didn't invite that old slag Eli. Could've tied him up like a pinata and really gone to town. That would've been a great gift."

He glanced down at her hands, of lack of, since she was holding them behind her back.

"Well, I didn't get you that, but I did get you something."

His insides crawled. She got him a present? The egotistical side of him was more than pleased to get a gift, but the skeptical side was unsure of what the gift-giving meant.

"As you should," he hurried up and said. "You should be showering me with gifts. I certainly deserve it."

He eyed the little box, wary as she held it out to him, and took it carefully.

"Is this full of bees? Glitter? A dead mouse?" He shook it and held it up to his ear. "Ah, it's a sports car."

"Stop shaking it and just open it."

He pulled the ribbon off viciously and peeked inside.

Nestled in some delicate white tissue paper was a gold-plated lighter, bevelled with little grooves all the way around. He plucked it out of the box, turning it over in his hands. On the bottom, " _Muds_ " was engraved into the metal.

"Ooh, have to poke some fun at me, even when you're giving me something, eh?"

He flicked the lid open and a perfect little flame lit up from it.

"Who'd you rob for this? Found another Muds and nicked it out of his pocket?"

"I got it in New York."

He glanced up at her. In _New York_? She'd had it that long? That made his heart wrench in an uncomfortable way he couldn't identify.

He flicked it on and off, wrangling what he was going to say when his mouth opened.

"Thank you, Ange', this is… quite nice, actually."

The sincere tone of his voice made her chest clench.

"You're welcome."

The more he looked at the little gift in his hand, the more uncomfortable he grew. Did he owe her, now? Was that it? A ploy to get him to give her something? A trick to get under his skin?

He shook himself and tried to let that bitter thought go. No, Angel wasn't like that. She was sickeningly thoughtful and had some misguided, ill-advised soft spot for him. She'd put this whole thing together. She probably would've been just fine if he gave her nothing at all.

But the thought nettled at him as he watched her mill around the room from a distance.

 _She'd_ done all this. The others certainly helped and Lenore had cracked out the company card for sure, but this had Angel written all over it, and she'd done it for him. That was almost too much to take. Almost. Maybe his shriveled old heart was getting soft.

He felt maybe he should have gotten her something, even if he didn't have to. That thought made him just as uncomfortable.

What the hell would he give her? Sex wasn't really a good choice when he was more than willing to do that anywhere, anytime, any way. Then what?

She didn't buy clothes, or shoes, or jewelry, or… anything, really. Whether that was purely out of necessity or if it was in her nature, he wasn't sure.

All she ever really wanted was to spend time—doing pretty much anything with anybody. Moments, it seemed, were more important to her than anything else.

He rolled the lighter around in his palm, thinking.

It must have been the liquor that made him come up with it.

He shook her by the shoulder, pulling her away from the bar as she went to refill.

"Hey, Ange', come with me."

She felt herself move along behind him, his hand clasped around hers, pulling her through the crowd of people and out the back door, where a few stragglers stood outside smoking on the patio. He had her coat jammed under his arm.

"What's—" she started, but he held a finger to his lips.

"We're sneaking off, so be sneaky," he said in a low, laughing voice.

"But the party," she said quieter.

"Will be fine without us for a bit. I know I'm the life of it, but it'll limp on."

He'd seen this perfect little holiday scene down the street from the car window as they passed—a little courtyard with a garland-wrapped street lamp over the walkway covered in snow, and blinking little strings of lights hanging overhead. Like a fucking Christmas card. A perfect little sentimental holiday picture for a painfully sentimental girl. And it was a gift that wouldn't even cost him anything, other than perhaps a little bit of his dignity.

Angel shivered in her coat with the wind cutting against her bare legs. Her heels bit into the snow, the tops of her feet starting to go numb with cold.

"What are we doing out here?"

"I'm giving you your present, what's it look like?" he said, tugging her along.

She blinked.

"You… don't have anything."

"Really? I don't have anything? You sure?"

"Unless you've got a bicycle in your pocket, no I don't think you do," she snorted.

"I've got _something_ in my pocket," he chuckled. 

They stood under the street lamp in the falling snow and she looked at him expectantly.

"Well, what's—"

His hand came down on her jaw, and for one second, he gave her a look that made her heart stop. For one second, everything in the world stopped.

That's what he was giving her—just one moment.

"Merry Christmas, Ange'."

He tucked her hair behind her ear with his long nail and leaned up on his tiptoes to reach her in her tall heels, giving her a shockingly soft, gentle kiss.

Angel flushed, staring down at him, her breath hot steam in the air. Without a word he pulled out the little gold lighter and quickly lit a cigarette, turning away.

Moment over.

"You ever tell anyone I did this, I'll deny it and skin you alive."

A long stream of silver smoke shot out of the corner of his mouth as she stared at him.

"Too bloody tall in those shoes," he muttered. "Come on, let's get back. I haven't drank so much eggnog that I've puked, yet, so I need to get to work on that. And I'll need to see if I can't get that trampy little dress off you."

Her chest was swollen to bursting with the ghost of his lips on her, and she gripped her coat tight, finally managing to open her mouth.

"Merry Christmas, Murdoc."


End file.
